


you think being yourself means being unworthy

by softhar



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (okay now on to the actual tags), Alternate Universe - College/University, Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Eating Disorders, Established Relationship, F/F, Girl Direction, Harry Styles Has An Eating Disorder, Nonbinary Niall Horan, gender swap, girl!Harry, girl!Liam - Freeform, girl!Louis, hi!! please read these trigger warnings before starting this fic:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softhar/pseuds/softhar
Summary: The lie tastes like chocolate as it leaves her mouth; a dark and bitter flavour coating every inch of her tongue that doesn’t want to disappear no matter how hard Harry tries to make it go away. Liam doesn’t look convinced, neither does Niall if their frown is anything to go by, and Louis is nervously picking at her nails, but all Harry can do is clear her throat and go back to her essay. She can feel their eyes on her, taking every single aspect of her appearance, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the need to cover up, to shrink until she’s nothing but a speck of dust. Swallowing hard, she ignores their worrying and instead focuses on finishing her damn essay.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Liam Payne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50
Collections: Girl Direction Fic Fest 2020





	you think being yourself means being unworthy

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! first off, this fic deals with forms of bulimia, binge eating and body dysmorphia so if any of those topics are triggering to you please don't read this.  
> secondly, i want to start this with saying that not every person who is Not skinny feels this way about their body. there are a lot of confident people who love their body just how it is and i think that's a wonderful thing. however, this fic is based on how i deal with my body / food issues so obviously not everyone is going to have the same experience as me, so please keep this in mind as you read this fic.  
> lastly, this fic was written because i've noticed that there is an alarming lack of fics with plus-sized characters and i think that that is an issue that should be fixed because there seriously needs to be more diversity in this fandom.
> 
> thank you for reading and enjoy!

The harsh October air manages to slip under Harry’s thick winter clothes and freeze her skin when she steps off the warm bus, her sneakers crunching the red leaves on the pavement. She pulls the hood of her coat over her head to protect it from the heavy drops of rain falling from the grey sky as she runs across the street to enter the small café she works at, her toes curling up inside her shoes when she feels a welcoming wave of heat that hits her as soon as the heavy door closes behind her.

_ Espresso Express,  _ fortunately _ , _ has at least fifteen minutes until it opens, but Harry notices that the chairs have already been pulled off the tables scattered throughout the place, and there’s a new, thick stack of books carefully placed on the coffee table that sits in the corner. Distracted by the humming figure wearing a violet-coloured apron around her waist that is currently wiping the counter with a rag, Harry smiles.

“Hey, Li!” Harry calls, pressing a quick kiss to her best friend’s cheek before making her way behind the counter and dropping her bag on the floor with a dull  _ thud. _

“Haz!” Liam turns to her with a wide smile across her face, her thick braids swinging over her shoulders. “Niall told me you came over on Friday. ‘M sorry I couldn’t be there — I was retaking that psych test. What’d you two do?”

“Uh, we baked some type of brownies with Oreos in the middle.” Harry shrugs her coat off, drops it on top of her bag, and wraps the apron folded under the counter around her waist, trying as hard as she can to not pay attention to the fact that the knot on the small of her back is just as tight as it had been the week before. “They were good.”

_ Of course they were,  _ a voice in her head whispers so loudly it almost feels like it’s right next to her.  _ You’d eat anything in front of you. _

“That’s amazing, H! I’m quite glad you’re finally loosening that diet of yours up a little,” Liam chirps before going off about the exam she’d had to retake, not noticing the way Harry quietly clears her throat and looks down at her stomach, wondering if it can somehow get flatter if she glares at it for long enough.

Liam only stops talking when it’s time to flip the blue sign on the door from “ _ sorry, we’re closed” _ to “ _ it’s open, come in! _ ” She immediately moves to the side so the soaked group of people waiting outside can finally come in and drip water all over the clean, dry floor. Harry suppresses the sigh that builds up in her throat as the first customer approaches her before plastering a smile onto her face, straightening her back as much as she can and lifting her chin (just in case one of her many chins was starting to show).

“Hi! Welcome to  _ Espresso Express;  _ what can I get for you?”

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

The day goes by rather quickly, which Harry notes as she flicks her up the clock on the wall for the first time since her shift started.

The café is usually empty on Sundays, but today there are four groups of teenagers huddled over their computers and typing like their time is running out as well as some solitary customers glancing out the window, earbuds shoved into their ears to tune the noisy world around them. They’re all nursing on the pumpkin spice lattes that everyone seems to become obsessed with the moment the first brown leaf touches the floor, but if Harry has to make another one of those damn PSLs, she’s going to scream.  
Harry huffs out a small breath in an attempt to get a stray curl out of her face, then decides to pull her greasy hair into a bun at the nape of her neck so it hopefully won’t look as greasy as it did before. She longingly glances at the warm chocolate muffin in the hand of the young woman sitting in front of her, before pulling out the small clementine she has in her bag and dutifully reminds herself _it will all be worth it in a few months_ every time she pops a slice into her mouth.

She notices the way Liam glances at her with worry in her kind eyes when a girl that somehow manages to look petite despite the fact that she’s wearing an oversized sweater walks in. Harry stares at her for a second too long before taking her order, ignoring her best friend by focusing her tired eyes on the screen.

“That’ll be four-fifty, please,” Harry tells her in a monotone voice as she stretches out her hand for the girl to put her coins on it and mutter a quiet  _ thank you  _ before moving out of the way.

“Hey, H?” Liam suddenly appears by her side, the silver band she wears around her long middle finger glinting under the fluorescent lights as she places her hand on Harry’s broad shoulder. “Ni just texted me and they said Lou’s coming to ours after practice. Apparently, we’re having a pizza party.”

Harry hums absentmindedly and hooks her fingers around the belt loops of her jeans to pull them up over her sagging stomach. The reminder that she’s been hiding in the back of her head about going to the gym appears behind her eyelids in bright, neon letters every time she blinks and she tries her hardest to ignore it.

“— so, are you coming?”

“I don’t know, Li… I have so much homework left to do,” she lies and fiddles with a loose thread on the hem of her jumper. Liam lets out a quiet sigh and Harry is unexpectedly thrown back to constant late nights crying over girls with sharp jawlines and size 0 waists, to lunch breaks spent hunching over toilets when she thought no one was around, to fainting in the middle of the day from the lack of nutrients and waking up to Liam sitting on the hospital bed with tear streaks on her soft face and her fingers untangling the knots in Harry’s hair.

“You always say that, Harry,” Liam murmurs gently like she always does when she knows Harry’s lying. “You’ve been doing so good with your diet and all that. We all know it. And I  _ know  _ how important this is to you, yeah? I get it. But you’ve got to stop being so damn hard on yourself.”

Harry curls her fingers into a tight fist, her nails painfully digging into her palm in hopes of relieving some of the aching frustration that is building up in her stomach and spreading across her body like wildfire, instead of doing something stupid like snapping at Liam. Someone who’s done  _ nothing wrong. _

“I have to finish my bio homework.” she smiles through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to scream that  _ no,  _ Liam  _ doesn’t  _ get it.

For as long as Harry has known her—which is her entire fucking life—Liam has  _ never  _ felt the pain of being dismissed by her crushes just because she doesn’t have the ideal body type or long, thin legs because she  _ does.  _ She has always been the one people flirt with while Harry fades into the background, trying not to cry as the strong hate for her body grows. Liam doesn’t get it because her skin has always been smooth and perfect and there isn’t a  _ single  _ red or white mark on it indicating that at some point in her life, her skin stretched too quickly because the only way to stop hurting is to eat until she feels like she’s going to explode. Liam doesn’t know what it’s like to stare at her reflection in the mirror for hours and despise every lightning-shaped scar etched across her body.

Instead, Harry bites down on her lip and continues digging her nails into her skin for comfort. Her best friend draws her eyebrows together, hesitates for a split second like she wants to say something, then walks back to her spot behind the pastry display. The bitter seed in Harry’s heart grows a bit more every time Liam tilts her head back to laugh at something a customer says and the sharp edges of her already sharp jawline pops out and mocks her for once again, having something that Harry doesn’t.

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

The rain has stopped pouring by the time Harry checks out of work, though the rain left the streets covered in a thin layer of dirt and water and the air smelling like the candles Harry has hidden under the bathroom sink behind all the rolls of toilet paper. 

Her chest and her fingers are halfway frozen when she crosses the street to get on the bus despite having her coat zipped up all the way, and there’s nothing she can do about the thick strands of hair that get into her mouth leaving her sputtering until she can get on the bus and take her thumbs out of the pockets. 

As she waits for the ride home, she realises Liam didn’t say a word to her after she declined the invitation; Liam didn’t even look at Harry when she checked out half an hour early to prepare for the hungry football players that will surely barge into her flat looking for food like they always do. Harry sighs to herself, suddenly feeling guilty for saying no, even though that wasn’t the first time she’s said it and it definitely won’t be the last.

When the bus finally stops in front of her, her face now completely numb, she feels her body slowly start to react to the warmth that comes from under the hard seats as she settles down on one. The back of it digs into her spine as she straightens it and sucks in her stomach as much as possible to avoid any uncomfortable tummy rolls. Her phone is just starting to warm up when she pulls it out of her coat pocket, unwrapping the earbuds around it, and it’s flooded with texts that have apparently been coming in since work started when she turns it back on.

The bus lurches into movement as she slips the earbuds in and completely drowns the outside world out with whatever Hozier song is playing, wiggling her thumbs to gain back some feeling in them before unlocking her phone. 

Most of the messages that keep making it vibrate like crazy are from Louis complaining that she didn’t get a morning kiss when Harry left for work—which she  _ did _ —and a few updates about what was happening at practice. There are also three texts from Niall, and those are the ones she opens first.

_8:43_ **niall [yellow heart emoji]:** h!!!

u left the brownies here!! thought u’d liked them .

_ 11:34  _ **niall [yellow heart emoji]:** li says ur not coming?? :(

Harry nervously nibbles on her lip, considering whether to reply to them or ignore their message, and she rapidly exits the conversation with the guilt of upsetting one of her closest friends washing over her like waves crashing against the sand. She chooses to then press on hers and Louis’ conversation, her eyes quickly scanning the white bubbles on the left side of the screen.

_ 8:30  _ **pretty blue lou [teddy bear emoji]:** ok first of ALL

ur a fucker for not waking me up and saying goodbye 

second of all

i hope u have a good day at work i love you tons xxx

_ 11:38  _ **pretty blue lou [teddy bear emoji]:** HARRY EVELYN STYLES

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT COMING TO OUR PIZZA PARTY

YOU BETTER DRAG YOUR CUTE LITTLE ASS OVER HERE OR ILL DO  IT MYSELF 

  
  


Harry rolls her eyes at the texts, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she continues scrolling down, her eyes falling on the last messages she received. 

_ 12:35 _ **pretty blue lou [teddy bear emoji]:** haz we miss u :(

(me the most but)

we miss u :(

im going to eat a lot of pizza in ur honour

ni says hi btw

Her phone buzzes with a new message and she quickly clicks on the blurry picture without even waiting for it to load. It feels like there is a hole growing in the middle of her chest when the image becomes clearer. It’s not even something  _ special  _ — it’s not like her friends are wearing bikinis for whatever reason in the middle of autumn or doing handstands on the fucking roof. It’s a picture that looks exactly like the other 200 Harry has saved in her phone, but something about it just numbs her fingers.

The three of them are sitting around Liam’s table where many  _ questionable  _ liquids have been spilled out over the years and if Harry zooms in enough on the picture, she can faintly make out the familiar stains. Niall sits in the middle of the shot, their eyes wide like they didn’t know the picture was being taken as they stick their tongue out to catch the greasy cheese that’s sliding off the slice of pizza in their hand. Liam’s sitting on their right, the crinkles by her eyes more prominent than ever from how wide she’s smiling. The sleeves of her violet shirt are bunched up by her elbows and she’s reaching forward to pick up a slice from the box in the middle of the table.

And Louis… she’s sitting next to Niall and across from Liam, her upper arm visible in the shot due to her holding her phone in her hand. Her bronze hair falls over her shoulders and a few strands stick to her pink face, clearly still a bit sweaty from practice, and she’s doing that silly face that makes Harry roll her eyes every time, with her ocean blue eyes crossed together and her tongue sticking out. Her uniform is probably as dirty as Niall’s, but she’s wearing Harry’s old  _ Blue Neighbourhood  _ hoodie, and there’s no way Harry can take a good look at the stains that are going to take days to come out. 

She notices that both her and Niall have two extra slices on their plates, grease pooling under them, and she feels something heavy and familiar settle in her stomach as she closes the app, locks her phone, and shoves it back into her pocket. It’s something Harry’s always been jealous of — how the three of them have always been able to eat as much greasy food as they want and never seem to gain an  _ ounce _ and yet when Harry so much as dares to fucking  _ breathe  _ near any kind of fast food, she gains two kilograms.

Sure, Niall and Louis play football every day and Liam has been going to the gym every day ever since she got dumped three years ago and ate her weight in chocolate ice cream, but none of them  _ did _ when they were younger.

Liam was a chubby kid and she didn’t care, just like most ten-year-olds don’t, but it was like someone had flipped a switch when she turned fifteen; her face cleared up, her already-small waist got smaller, her stomach flattened and people started noticing her. Boys started  _ talking _ to her. All while Harry watched from the background and waited for that moment to come for her.

Spoiler alert: it never did. 

And from the pictures she’s seen, she knows both Louis and Niall had legs and arms so thin they looked like twigs, but Louis didn’t start playing football until she was fourteen and Niall  _ just  _ got clearance from their knee doctor to play again, but none of them have ever looked like her and she doesn’t know what she’s doing  _ wrong.  _

The bus slowly comes to a stop in front of Harry’s building and she stands up, her music too loud and her heart beating too hard against her chest for her to hear the driver wishing her a good rest of the day as she steps off. The puddle she accidentally steps in when she crosses the street splashes cold water on her shin and soaks through her sneakers, but she ignores it, just like she ignores the drivers honking at her for not realising they were not stopping for her as she made her way across. She pulls her key out with trembling fingers, and the door barely has a chance to unlock before Harry’s pushing it open with her shoulder, the soles of her shoes resonating through the empty staircase as she climbs the two flights of stairs to her flat.

The rusty doorknob twists easily in her grasp and warmth greets her when she steps in, but she’s too distracted to feel any anger towards her girlfriend for neither locking the door nor turning the heat off when she left for practice. She makes a beeline for the dark kitchen in the corner with her bag still strapped around her shoulder and she eats.

She gathers the plastic box containing the small chocolate muffins that Louis brought back home from one of her games and her secret stash of Halloween sweets in her arms moves back to the couch pushed back against the wall and she  _ eats.  _

She stuffs her face until there are hot tears running down her face and her stomach keeps cramping painfully and her fingers are stained with chocolate and the sun sets behind the horizon and tints the sky black.

There comes a moment when she cries so hard that her chest burns and heaves with the need to breathe. Her left wrist has red marks that look like small crescent moons have been carved into the skin, and it feels like she’s literally drowning in food, and she sobs until her throat hurts—until there’s no sound coming out of her mouth except pitiful hiccups that make the tightness in her chest get worse. 

It’s not long until she passes out, surrounded by empty wrappers and broken promises.

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

Harry wakes up on the couch to a bright light shining directly on her face, a painful crick in her neck and her stomach as bloated and hard as a football ball. A quiet whimper leaves her lips and she buries her nose into the comfortable pillow her head is resting on before attempting to turn on her back and wallow in self-pity until she has to get ready for work, but she suddenly feels an arm tighten around her waist and pull her back against a warm body. Her brain short-circuits for a second and a scream starts to build up in her throat, but a familiar snore comes from behind her and she notices the metallic blue nail polish on the owner’s hands and her muscles instantly relax.

She’s starting to doze off to Louis’ snores and occasional nonsensical mumbling when a fucking  _ loud _ alarm goes off in her head, reminding her that she probably should start getting ready for class and hope that there aren’t that many people waiting for the bus. She sits up with a start and the fuzzy blanket that had been keeping them in a cozy cocoon falls to the floor. 

“Fuck fuck fuck  _ fuck,”  _ Harry mutters to herself as she tries to pull her legs out of Louis’ shins’ iron grip so she can stand up and ignores the way her mouth tastes like something crawled in and died in there. “Lou,  _ please.  _ I’m going to be late for class.”

“Harry, darlin’,” comes Louis’ sleepy whisper causing Harry’s tense muscles turn to melted butter. She curls her arm around Harry’s bloated stomach and tugs her back down, instantly throwing her bare leg over her thighs. “It’s almost one. I sent your professors an email saying you weren’t feelin’ well and wouldn’t be going to class, so, please. Go back to sleep.”

_ “What?” _ Harry widens her eyes and tries to turn her head to tell her girlfriend off, but instead ends up knocking her chin against her forehead.  _ “Ow. _ Why would you do that?’

Louis shifts her head to look up at her through her lashes. “Well, are you? Feeling well, I mean.”

She opens her mouth to tell her she’s  _ fine,  _ but quickly decides to close it instead and gently pushes Louis’ limbs off hers before standing up, exhaustion filling every inch of her body. “I’m fine.”

“Are you really, though?”

The couch squeaks quietly as Louis shuffles around and Harry turns to face her girlfriend after a moment of hesitation. She has her head propped up with her hand and an eyebrow arched over eyes that have  _ no  _ right being this blue this early. Her hair resembles a bird’s nest more than anything, with strands sticking up in every possible direction, and her practice clothes have been carelessly thrown over the arm of the sofa, leaving her in her underwear. 

“Because I came home last night and found you  _ literally sleeping  _ on chocolate wrappers. This has only happened once in the time that I’ve known you, Harry.”

Harry sighs inwardly and fixes her eyes on her socked feet, suddenly feeling bare and exposed despite being completely clothed. “I’m fine,” she repeats, much softer this time.

She feels two strong arms wrap around her waist tightly not even a second later and a chin rests on her shoulder. Her first reaction is to put her arms around Louis’ narrow shoulders.

“I’m just worried about you, baby. You know that,” Louis murmurs quietly, the tip of her nose finding its usual spot in the crook of Harry’s neck. 

“I know, Lou,” she says, untangling the knots in Louis’ hair with her fingers as carefully as she can. “But I’m okay.”  _ Liar. _

“If you say so.” Louis pulls away slowly, her nose scrunched up in disgust. “I’m gonna go take a shower because I  _ stink,  _ but when I come back, we’re going out. Okay?”

“Okay, Lou.” Harry forces herself to smile and waits until she hears the shower running to fall back on the sofa.

She likes to think that she’s in control of what she eats and how much of it, and she usually  _ is.  _ But there are times, like last night, when she feels so little and insignificant than nothing except eating will remind her that there’s blood going through her veins and that she’s an actual person going through life, just like everybody else. But it’s never been this bad; it’s happened only twice before this. Louis knows of one, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to witness a second one. If she’s being honest, she didn’t think Louis would stick around long enough to see her fall apart even once.

The shower is turned off, making Harry realise that her bottom lip is wobbling, so she makes herself smile and goes into the bedroom to change into clean clothes. Her lip stops trembling. 

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

It’s sunny outside. The sky is blue and clear after a stormy night, but it’s not warm enough that Harry can’t wear her coat to hide what’s underneath her clothes from the public eye. The pavement is scattered with leaves the colour of fire, the kind that doesn’t crunch when you step on them causing your heart to fill with disappointment, and it’s fitting that that’s how Harry feels every time she walks past a window.

Louis hasn’t let go of her hand since they walked out of their building, pulling her to where they’re supposed to be going. Her voice fills up the space that Harry’s silence leaves between them as she recounts how one of the girls at practice slipped on a wet patch and made at least half the team trip over her. Harry chuckles at all the right places, like she’s done so many times before, and stays quiet for the rest of the story.

She doesn’t look up from her shoes until she notices they’ve stopped walking and she glances at her girlfriend with confusion when she notices they’re standing in front of the local public library.

“What’re we doing here?” 

“Just — y’know. Homework?” 

“Homework,” she repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow when Louis gives an innocent shrug. “You’re a terrible liar, Louis.”

“And yet you still love me!” her girlfriend retorts cheerfully as she takes Harry’s hand once again and leads them towards their usual spot at the back of the place.

“Do I, though?” she muses quietly. Louis sends her a playful glare, poking her tongue out in return, but a voice calling their names stops them from bickering any longer. “Is that Liam and Niall?” 

“I told you, homework!”

Harry rolls her eyes and lets herself be tugged towards one of the round tables in the corner. As they get closer, her stomach starts to sink at the thought of having to talk to Liam after yesterday’s argument because Harry  _ really  _ doesn’t like confrontation — Liam might not be even mad at her. Maybe she’s just overreacting. But also — 

“Hi, H!” Niall greets her happily, jumping up from their chair to wrap their arms around her tightly. “How’re you feeling?”

Harry stays still for a second, surprised at Niall’s sudden burst of affection. She glances at Louis with panic in her eyes, silently asking her if she told them what happened that morning —  _ hoping _ that Niall doesn’t know how pathetic she is. Louis stares back at her, unblinking, and shrugs as she sits down next to Liam.  _ What the  _ hell  _ does that mean? _

“I’m okay, Ni.” she hugs them back tentatively, suddenly too aware of the way her arms are able to wrap around their waist so easily. “You?”

“Honestly? Could be better.” they sit back down, wincing, and motion towards the three open textbooks in front of them. 

“Biochem is a bitch. I’ve told you a million times,” Liam tells them before turning to Harry with a small smile that says  _ are we okay? _

Harry feels her heart squeeze a little when she smiles back at her best friend in hopes that she’s saying  _ yeah, of course, we’re okay  _ instead of  _ no, I think I’m dying inside.  _ It seems to do the trick, though, because Liam nods, satisfied, and goes back to bantering with Niall.

ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

Harry’s Monday afternoon is spent writing a ten-page essay she should've submitted two days ago and giggling at Niall’s suffering. It’s enough to distract her from the dark cloud hovering over her head and as Louis sends a relieved smile her way, she thinks about how lucky she is to have such wonderful friends to rely on, even if none of them know what’s actually going on.

“Are you feeling better today, Harry?” Liam suddenly asks, her voice tinged with worry.

Harry’s fingers pause over her keyboard at the same time her heart does and she looks up from her screen to meet Liam’s expectant brown eyes. She knows what a terrible liar she is, they all do, but Liam knows every single one of her tells by heart and if she says  _ anything,  _ Liam will know that she’s lying, that there’s something wrong, that— 

“She’s okay. She just had a lot of homework last night,” Louis says, hooking her ankle around Harry’s under the table. Liam starts to say something, but Louis quickly cuts her off. “Really, Li. She’s just tired.”

Harry nods, tugging Louis’ foot as a silent  _ thank you.  _ “Yeah. I went to bed late last night. You know me, Li. I’m a grandma.”

The lie tastes like chocolate as it leaves her mouth; a dark and bitter flavour coating every inch of her tongue that doesn’t want to disappear no matter how hard Harry tries to make it go away. Liam doesn’t look convinced, neither does Niall if their frown is anything to go by, and Louis is nervously picking at her nails, but all Harry can do is clear her throat and go back to her essay. She can feel their eyes on her, taking every single aspect of her appearance, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the need to cover up, to shrink until she’s nothing but a speck of dust. Swallowing hard, she ignores their worrying and instead focuses on finishing her damn essay. 

They’re all quiet for a minute, the awkward silence around them so palpable that someone could cut through it if they tried. Harry forces herself to keep her eyes on the blinking cursor and the letters that push it forward when she presses down on the keys, hoping that it’ll distract her from the voice in her head that’s saying  _ you’re a liar. You’re lying and they know it. They’re going to —  _

“Chips, anyone?” Niall asks, a soft rustling sound coming from their side of the table as they pull out two Ziploc bags filled with what seem to be Doritos. Harry’s stomach churns at the sight of them, but she tries her hardest to not ask for some. 

“Oh, me! I’m starving,” Louis exclaims and reaches across the table to snatch up one of the bags. Harry lets out a quiet chuckle at her enthusiasm and Louis turns towards her, her eyes squinted. “What? The last time I ate was at their apartment.”

“Whatever you say, Lou.” 

“D’you want some, H?” Liam offers her the second bag, a kind smile on her lips. Harry can see the hope in her eyes and she glances down at the chips just as her stomach gives a small growl, but then she remembers her chocolate-stained fingers and the way her stomach cramped with every bite, and she shakes her head.

“I’m okay, thank you.”

Her friend sighs, her eyebrows drawn together, but she keeps her arm stretched out toward Harry. “C’mon. Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten yet.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, Harry  _ knows  _ it. It’s supposed to make her smile, maybe even laugh, but it punches the air out of her lungs and leaves her struggling to breathe, her vision turning blurry around the edges. All of a sudden, she’s too aware of how  _ perfect  _ her friends are; how Liam’s rosy lips naturally look like the ones that people pay money for, how Niall’s face looks like the faces Harry would spend hours crying over, how Louis’ body is literally the epitome of perfection and how, no matter how much she works out, she will never be like them.

“I said  _ no,  _ Liam,” she says firmly, but she doesn’t know how harsh she’d been until Liam quickly draws her arm back like she’s been burned by the venom in Harry’s voice. Even Louis is staring at her, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly parted in disbelief. “Wait, no. Liam, I’m so—” 

She’s interrupted by a knot forming in her throat, its ragged edges scratching everything in its way. Her heart is beating so hard that it feels like it’s going to explode at any moment and she can’t hear anything except the blood rushing in her ears, but she doesn’t have to. No one is saying anything; they’re just looking at her, a million emotions flashing in their eyes. The walls around her seem to be closing in all at once, so fast that her lungs don’t have enough time to take a breath and she gasps for air as she pushes her chair back. The sound fills the room, echoing against the wooden walls, and she has — she  _ needs  _ — to get out before she bursts into tears in front of everyone.  _ No, stay. You know you want the attention. _

As Harry runs from the table, she doesn’t hear her friends calling her name, asking her to stay, or the people around her trying to make sure she’s alright. Instead, she focuses on finding the nearest bathroom, on the way her belt wrapped around her waist isn’t letting her breathe properly, and she runs into the bathroom when she finds it. She locks herself in the last stall and leans back against the door, gasping for her next breath at the same time as dry sobs scratch their way out of their mouth. Surprisingly, her tears never come. 

There’s only been a few times where she’s felt as shitty about herself as she does right now, and Harry can’t help but wonder about what she did that was so terrible that she had to be put in this body. This body that gets winded after one set of stairs, that jiggles all over with every step she takes, that never fails to make her cry if she looks at it for too long. It’s a never-ending cycle of trying to eat healthier, trying to work out, giving up after not seeing any results and she’s  _ tired _ of it. She’s tired of never feeling like she’s not enough and like someday she’ll wake up and realise that she’s all alone because everyone around her got tired of her shit.

The bathroom door opens slowly and someone quietly walks in, making Harry clamp her hand over her mouth to stop the person from hearing the whimpers that are threatening to come out. She hears them walk around for a second, then stop in front of her stall, and she prepares herself to tell the stranger that the stall is occupied, but a familiar voice comes from the other side.

“Harry, love? Are you in there?”

“Louis?” she asks, surprised. If she’s being honest, she didn’t think that any of them would come after her. “What’re you doing here?”  
“Just… Can you come out? Please?” Louis’ voice is soft and Harry debates whether to tell her to leave, that she’s _fine,_ but deep down she knows she can’t hide forever, especially not from her girlfriend. She draws a shaky breath and unlocks the door.

She has no time to even open her mouth before Louis throws her arms around her tightly and pulls her close. It’s the kind of hug that they save for each other when one of them is feeling down, the kind that says  _ I’m sorry you’re feeling like this. I’m here for you. I love you.  _

“I think we should go back,” Louis whispers into her hair, holding her tightly. “I don’t think either of us wants someone to come in and get the wrong idea.” 

Harry snorts out a watery laugh, her shoulders shaking as she slowly pulls away from the embrace and drags her hand down her face. 

“I can’t go back,” she says. “I-I can’t look at Liam right now. Fuck,  _ she  _ probably can’t look at me. I’m a terrible person, I shouldn’t have run out like that and now she’s going to hate me and—”

Her girlfriend cups her face in her hands and stops her rambling. “H, calm down. I’ll get our things and we’ll go home. Okay?”

Harry takes a deep breath, holding it like she was taught in her yoga class, and nods. Louis smiles at her, but it’s weary and it looks more like a grimace than anything else, but she turns around and leaves Harry alone to her thoughts once again.

Despite her mind screaming at her, she looks at herself in the mirror and a sob starts to make its way up her throat as she takes in her appearance. Her hair is a mess that sticks up in every possible direction and the dark blush that has spread across her face only brings attention to the roundness of her cheeks.  _ She hates it.  _ If she could get rid of it all, she would. She watches her eyes fill with tears, but she simply blinks them away then splashes cold water on her face — a routine that is embedded deep into her mind.

She walks out of the bathroom and towards the entrance with her head held low and her hair falling around her face like a dark curtain that will protect her from the outside world. Louis is already waiting outside, a grim look on her face that disappears when she spots Harry. 

When Louis takes her hand, she holds onto it tightly and in a way that can only be described as  _ desperate,  _ like she thinks the wind will blow too Hard and blow Harry away.

_ Ha, as if.  _

They walk back home in silence, neither of them knowing what to say to improve the situation. Harry squeezes her girlfriend’s hand once and at some point, Louis lifts their hands to her mouth to give Harry’s a kiss, but no words are shared between them, and somehow that makes everything worse. By the time their building comes into view, Harry’s pretty sure she’s gnawed her bottom lip off and the thoughts swirling around in her head only get louder when Louis lets go of her to walk up the stairs.

An alarm goes off in Harry’s head, warning her to prepare herself for the breakup talk that’s sure to come, reminding her that she ate everything she had stashed away last night and that she has nothing to turn to. But she pushes the alarm to the back of her mind and follows her girlfriend into their apartment. 

She’s half expecting to hear Louis slam their bedroom door, something she does whenever they’re fighting — but they’re not really fighting right now, are they? Instead, she walks right into Louis’ body, a quiet  _ oof _ leaving her mouth, and feels Louis encircle her waist with her arms to keep them from falling over. They stand in the middle of their living room like that until Harry realises Louis isn’t really planning on letting her go, and the feeling in their stomach slowly disappears as she hugs her back.

“I’m so tired, Lou,” Harry whispers, every emotion she’d been holding back suddenly hitting her body like a million bricks. “I can’t — I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired of never feeling good about myself. Every day I wake up thinking there’s no way I can hate my body any more than I already do, and somehow, every day I hate it a little more.”

“I know, baby. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you feel this way,” Louis murmurs after a second of silence. “I just wish you would’ve told me sooner, H.”

“What— what do you mean you know how I feel?” worry seeps into her head, already imagining the worst scenario.  _ She doesn’t mean… _

Louis hesitates for a second before letting out a quiet sigh, and she pulls Harry down onto the couch along with her. “One of my sisters was diagnosed with anorexia when she was fourteen. I watched her fade away with every meal she skipped and… there was nothing I could do to help her. There was nothing  _ anyone  _ could do  **(???)** ; my mum was already working two jobs to maintain three kids. My sister was so happy, Harry, one of the happiest people I’ve ever known, and she turned into a shell of a person before anyone ever did anything.”

“Oh, Lou, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… if I did—” Harry knows Louis’ sisters, she’s met them all, and as she runs their names through her mind, she can’t remember there ever being mention of anything like this happening to any of them.

Louis shrugged. “I never told you, so you couldn’t have known. In the end, my mum and I scraped enough money to get her a therapist and she’s okay now. My point is it killed me to watch my sister go through that and it will kill me if I let that happen to you, too.”

Harry stares at her, unblinking, as her stomach starts to bubble with anxiety. She knows exactly what Louis is suggesting and it numbs her entire body. She’s reminded of a time when the fridge at her house would be locked if she was home, a time when  _ every single  _ calorie would be written down because  _ the therapist said this is good for you.  _ She might be ruining her life pretty bad right now, but there is no fucking way in hell she will let another therapist fuck her up as bad as the first one did.

“No. Absolutely not.” Harry shakes her head in determination. Louis opens her mouth to protest but Harry’s trembling lip seems to stop her. “I will not pour out my heart to some  _ jackass _ who will pretend to care because I’m paying them a fuck ton of money. They don’t give a shit about me. And I’m doing just fucking fine without a therapist.”

“Harry, you’re not doing fine. I don’t understand why—” 

“Because  _ I don’t need help,  _ Louis! That’s why! Because I don’t need someone else to tell me that I need to count my calories or that I’ll be happy when I’m skinny! I already know that, so it’ll just be a waste of my money and time.”

“Babe, I don’t understand why you’re getting so defensive,” Louis says, her eyes wide. It’s not often that Harry gets mad, so she almost feels bad for Louis. Almost. “Why don’t you want to go to therapy? It’ll be good for you, Harry.”

“I don’t want to go through that again, okay?” she snaps. Louis moves back in surprise and Harry sighs, lowering her voice to a mumble. “I had a therapist when I was thirteen. My mum thought it would be a good idea to see one ‘cause all I ever did was eat. It didn’t matter whether I was happy or sad or angry; food was literally my happy place.

“It didn’t take the therapist long to realise that and… he told my mum that the best way to help me get better was to go on a diet and write down everything I ate, down to the grains of salt.” she shivers at the memory. “He’d weigh me at the start of every session and if I’d lost weight, I’d get a sweet. If I hadn’t, he’d tell my mom to give me smaller meals and not let me eat snacks. It… fucked me up. Really bad, as you can clearly see.”

When she motions to herself with a sarcastic smile on her lips, Louis whimpers out her name before climbing onto her lap and hugging her so tightly that she forgets how to breathe for a moment. She feels bare and completely exposed and she absolutely hates it, but some of the weight that has been pressing down on her chest is gone.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve  _ helped  _ you, Harry. I could’ve…” Louis’s voice breaks and she takes a deep breath before pulling back to look Harry in the eye. “That man was a piece of shit and a horrible therapist and you didn’t deserve any of the bullshit he put you through, okay? But not all therapists are like that, my love, and the first one you go to might not be a perfect fit, but that doesn’t mean that you have to stop looking for one. I mean, how many partners did you go through before you found me?”

Harry can’t help but chuckle at that and Louis smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. “Eventually, you’ll find one who you trust enough to tell them about this. And you’ll get better and realise that all that effort was worth it.”

“What if we don’t, though?” Harry asks quietly. Louis tilts her head in confusion and she sighs. “What if I don’t find a therapist that I feel comfortable with?”

“Then we’ll keep looking for one,” Louis says.

“I don’t think we can afford that.”

“I’ll make an OnlyFans.”

The laugh that comes out of Harry’s mouth is loud and carefree and just like that, they’re okay again. They’re still looking into each other’s eyes—which,  _ weird,  _ because one of them should really look away — but Harry is too busy staring at the specks of green that surround her pupil to do anything else. 

“I love you,” she blurts out, just to see the way her girlfriend’s eyes squint when she throws her head back and laughs.

“I love you more,” Louis replies, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss. “We’ll start looking tomorrow, yeah? Right now, I think you should call Liam. She’s probably worried sick.”

_ Oh, God. Liam, _ Harry thinks with a groan, but she nods. Knowing Liam, she’s probably really fucking pissed right now, but she also knows that Louis is right and that this is completely her fault, so she says she’ll do it before they go to bed.

“Pinky promise?” she asks, one eyebrow raises.

“Pinky promise.” Harry smiles, hooking their pinkies together.

“Good!” Louis grins, shuffling closer to wrap her legs around Harry’s waist. “Okay, so about my OnlyFans idea…” 


End file.
